


Masochism Tango

by Raindropsonwhiskers



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Dancing, Episode AU: s12e1-2 Spyfall, Identity Reveal, Kissing, Other, Telepathy, Unresolved Tension, Yaz has a bi crisis, the Doctor just wants to dance with the pretty human, the Master ruins it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:09:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26997988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raindropsonwhiskers/pseuds/Raindropsonwhiskers
Summary: Barton doesn't show up at his party until after a little dancing. The Doctor and O decide to take advantage of that.
Relationships: The Doctor/The Master (Doctor Who), Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan), Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan - One-sided
Comments: 19
Kudos: 71





	Masochism Tango

**Author's Note:**

> Shout-out to Valc0 for the concept! It took hold of my brain and did not let go  
> Title from the song of the same name - PS, there's a stunning Twissy edit on YouTube set to it

Barton's party is precisely as opulent and high-end as the Doctor had expected it to be; crystal-laced chandeliers hang from high ceilings, every guest is in a suit or long, elegant dress, and high-stakes gambling seems to be the main event in the massive ballroom. A live band plays music in one corner, classical and just boring enough to fade into the background chatter of partygoers.

"It's a party, we're guests - blend in. And keep an eye out for Daniel Barton," she says quietly to her companions, already scanning the crowd for their target. To no avail, but that's not surprising. It's a large house, and beautiful French doors open into the balcony, so he could be anywhere on the property right now.

Her friends scatter, Graham and Ryan off to one side, O and Yaz to the other. The Doctor finds herself wandering around, flitting from table to table, game to game, subtly asking for information on Barton. She doesn't get much, but she learns that he's sure to show up once the dancing starts. Apparently, it's a tradition - Barton lets people dance for a few songs, ends with the tango, and then makes some sort of speech before making proper rounds to greet everyone.

Well, she can work with that. Less than an hour until the dancing starts, and then she'll have Barton within easy interrogating distance. The Doctor can wait that long.

She gets bored after about fifteen minutes of waiting, and decides to hunt down O and Yaz, so that she can have _something_ to do. The two of them are playing craps, though they don't seem to be doing particularly well. Not that the Doctor is really sure how to play craps either, but the tiny pile of chips between them is a good indicator.

"So!" she says brightly, leaning down next to O. "I found out when Barton will definitely be here. There's a dance that he always shows up for in thirty minutes, give or take."

"That's great!" O smiles. "Maybe by then Yaz and I'll be doing better, hmm?"

Yaz laughs. "I doubt it."

"I was thinking we should all meet up a little bit before, consolidate our info," the Doctor says. "And in case Barton tries to run, we can go after him together."

"Sounds like a plan," Yaz agrees.

She begins to straighten, ready to leave and tell Graham and Ryan, when O puts a gentle hand on her arm and stops her. "Do you want to stay with us and play? You might have better luck rolling."

He looks at her hopefully, eyes twinkling a little. Her hearts do that startling flutter they've been doing ever since she first saw him in the Outback, just a little uptick in their pace every time she looks at him. It's wonderful and a little dizzying and she thinks, once this is over, that she's going to ask him to travel with her. It also makes it terribly hard to say no to him.

"Sure, why not?" The Doctor grins, just a hint of cockiness in her tone. "I'm good at dice games."

Good enough, evidently, to get her accused of cheating and kicked off the table. As if it's her fault that she can see the most probable outcome laid out in front of her like a map, just waiting to be bet on. This, she thinks with annoyance, is why she doesn't gamble. Everyone else is a sore loser. Still, it was a good way to waste nearly twenty minutes.

With how little time remains before the dance, the Doctor resolves to find Graham and Ryan quickly and go over the - well, it's _technically_ a plan, even if the details are a little wibbly - with them. They're certainly easier to locate than Barton; they've been quite lucky with the roulette wheel, if the massive stack of chips is evidence.

This time, the Doctor doesn't play, instead choosing to hand back and watch. O leans against the wall next to her, toying with a single blue chip, flipping it lightly over his knuckles.

"You know, this whole espionage thing isn't half as scary as I thought it would be," he remarks.

"It's all about confidence," the Doctor says. "You just go in acting like nobody should question you, and nine times out of ten, they won't. Humans - you're all so ready to believe everyone."

"And you aren't?" he asks, a teasing grin pulling at his lips. "Too clever?"

She laughs. "Nah, I'm really not. Just as stupid as everyone else, me. I've just got more experience."

O chuckles, a soft, warm sound that the Doctor realizes she wants to hear more of. Before she lets herself think about all the reasons it's a horrible idea, she turns to him.

Both of them speak at once. "Do you want to dance with me?"

The Doctor freezes, taken aback. O looks equally startled, a faint blush rising on his cheeks.

"Er, that is-" she starts.

"Not that you have to if-" he stutters.

They pause again.

"I mean, I'd love to," says the Doctor.

"Of course I want to," O smiles.

Her hearts sing, and she grins at him, and he looks back with bright eyes, and she thinks that maybe she could get used to this. It's been so long since she felt _happy_ like this, since she wanted to touch someone, since she's felt that sweet, delirious thrill of- well, it's a little early to be putting words to it, but she's known O for centuries on her end and she's told him things she hasn't told anyone in a very long time, so perhaps these warm feelings are only natural.

O takes her hand, and for once the touch doesn't make her skin crawl, leading her onto the dance floor where other couples are beginning to gather in preparation. Sure enough, after only a few seconds, the band starts up a gentle waltz.

He's hesitant, at first, so the Doctor takes the lead, one hand on his waist and the other on his shoulder. They're very nearly the same height, which she isn't quite used to - the last time she'd done this, she'd been a good six inches taller - but the steps of the dance are familiar enough that she adjusts quickly.

"You're, uh, better at this than I expected," O says softly. "I was sort of hoping we'd be on even footing here."

"You're not bad yourself," she replies. "Just need more confidence."

He looks a little dubious, but then the music is changing to a brisk foxtrot and they're both too busy adjusting to say more. The Doctor's left hand meets O's right, and again, it feels so natural, so easy where other touch has been difficult. He leads this time, guiding her across the hardwood floor and, with a grin, twirling her out and back. Her hair goes flying and she smiles as he pulls her back in, hearts thrilling.

They go through a few more songs, slowly settling into a better rhythm with each other as they go. O gets more confident, and takes a few more liberties - more flourishes, more spins, more feather-light touches to the Doctor's bared skin that make her breath catch in her throat. His fingers trail ever so slightly along her wrist, just over her pulses, as they come to the end of another waltz, and he meets her eyes.

"Doctor," he whispers, into the tiny space that remains between them, "I'm not going to be upset if you say no, but… kiss me?"

As if she could say no to that, with the way her hearts are racing and her mind is throwing good sense to the wind. She raises her right hand to cup his face, her left settling on his chest. Slowly, softly, they both lean in. Beneath her fingers she can feel his pulses beating just as fast as hers.

_Wait._

The Doctor's eyes fly open, wide with panic. Two pulses means two hearts means one very elaborate lie means only one person who would...

He's kissing her, still gentle. He doesn't know that she knows, yet, but it won't be long. Her mind is probably leaking terror-relief-longing _-anger_ like a sieve, and she forces her barriers into place even as O - not O, _definitely not O_ \- sighs against her lips and she realizes that, oh, she's been kissing back. He tastes like the expensive champagne here and cinnamon and a rich, dark undertone that's unmistakably the Master.

A blush - faked, like everything else, she's sure - spreads across his cheeks. "Sorry, it's been a while. I'm a bit…"

His voice trails off as she stares at him, betrayal and a host of other, messier emotions vying for prominence. Then, before her eyes, like an optical illusion, he changes. Stands just a little straighter, loses the endearing awkwardness, eyes glittering with delight. If there was any doubt left in her mind as to his identity, it's crushed to pieces.

Neither of them say a word; they don't have to. He knows that she knows, and he knows exactly how furious she is, and she knows that if she isn't careful there are a lot of people about to wind up dead. So, when the band starts the final song, they dance.

Yaz is definitely not watching O and the Doctor dance because she's crushing hopelessly on them both. That would be ridiculous, and very pathetic, and totally absurd.

But she does watch them. Even from the start, they make a good pair, moving in a slow waltz across the dance floor like something out of a movie. They sweep through several more songs, and more than once Yaz gets a little bit jealous, though of whom she isn't sure.

Then there's a pause in the music after another waltz comes to an end, and they're both staring at each other and-

Oh. Now they're kissing. Yaz blushes and quickly looks away, desperately hoping to find Barton or some other excuse to not think about what that's doing to her brain.

"Really?" Ryan mutters, glancing at her. "Yaz, come on."

"I know!" she snaps, defensiveness coloring her tone. She is well aware of exactly how embarrassing it is.

"They're done, by the way," he says. "You can go back to staring."

Yaz thwacks him in the arm for the cheeky grin he shoots at her, and then… well, she goes back to staring. From where she stands, she can only see O's grin, leaving the Doctor's expression to her imagination. It must have been a good kiss.

The band begins to play again, the last dance before Barton will make his appearance - a tango. For the first slow, sliding measures, she doesn't notice anything different. Then the beat picks up, the music gets faster, and Yaz _knows_ she's ogling but she can't help it. Before, as they'd danced, there had been a slight hesitance to their movements. They were good, but no better than most of the other couples on the floor.

Now, though, any hesitation is gone. The awkwardness she's come to expect from O has disappeared, and in its place is a fervor that makes her a little dizzy just watching. He's leading, though the Doctor doesn't really give the impression of _following_ so much as continuing his movements, perfectly coordinated and smooth.

She watches, entranced, as the Doctor hooks one leg up around O's waist and leans backwards with an elegance Yaz genuinely didn't think she possessed. Usually, the Doctor is borderline clumsy, but now she moves deliberately and gracefully, every fast-paced footstep calculated and precise. It's beautiful.

The music crescendos, spiralling faster towards the inevitable end of the dance, the end of the Doctor's ability to pretend that this is just a dance. Her mind is twined around the Master's, so tight she can hardly tell whose limbs are whose anymore, only that they're moving in perfect harmony. A hand tightens on a hip, a leg kicks out sharply to the beat, someone twists so that their back is against the other chest - she's pretty sure that one's her.

With a gentleness at odds with the simmering hatred between them, the Master turns her and dips her backwards once more while the music explodes into its final measures. As he carefully tilts her upright again, one of her hands finds the back of his head and she's kissing him before she even really plans to.

The Master's hand is still supporting her back, and the Doctor finds it easy to lean into it, letting him take her weight as his lips move against hers. If he lets go, she knows that she'll fall, but somehow she's certain he won't.

"Why are you doing this?" she breathes, lips barely parted from his. "Why go through all this effort?"

It's not quite the question she wants to ask - why did you lie to me _again,_ why hide as someone you knew I would love, why ask me to dance - but it's close enough.

He looks at her, dark eyes meeting her own. "How else would I get your attention, love?"

Then they're kissing again, teeth sharp against lips and hands grabbing possessively at every inch of skin available. Their minds form a feedback loop of biting, hungry warmth. Distantly, she knows they're making a scene, and that this is probably a distraction so that she won't have the sense to put all the pieces of this mystery together, but she doesn't really care.

Part of her wants to drag him back to her TARDIS, shove him against a wall, and take out some of the anger and betrayal and _want_ coursing through her veins. She could explain to her companions later, make up some excuse and deflect and ignore the consequences of it all. The rest of her knows that it's no coincidence that he's here, and that it's a horrible idea.

She stands up properly, stepping away from him, pulling her mind apart from his despite the empty feeling it leaves behind. His hand slides from her back to her waist, not fully letting her go yet.

"I'm going to stop you," she says softly. "Don't quite know what your plan is, but I'm going to stop it."

"Oh, my dear Doctor, I do hope so," he replies. "There is… so much I want to tell you. So much you don't know yet."

"What do you mean?" Her voice comes out a harsh whisper, fear curling in her gut.

He steps closer again, negating her attempt to back away, and runs one hand tenderly through her hair. The soft, open, _sad_ look in his eyes makes her hearts fall apart.

"When did you last go home, love?" he whispers.

Her mind races, scrambling for what that could possibly be hinting at. "What?"

"Oh, you'll see soon enough," he replies. "Though for you, I think it'll be a familiar sight."

A cruel smile twists his lips up, the softness of a mere moment ago gone. Unimpressed, she holds her ground and glares at him. He laughs, different from O's but just similar enough to make her hearts hurt.

"Barton's speech is about to start," the Master says lightly. "Would be a shame for you to miss it. I'll see you soon, Doctor."

He snaps his fingers, a motion so reminiscent of Missy, and then he's gone. The faint taste of a short-range teleport is sharp in the air, the ghost of his touch still heavy on the Doctor's skin.

"Doctor, what just happened?" Yaz hisses, startling the Doctor into a jolt. "O just _disappeared._ "

"'S not O," she mutters, numb. "We need to go, we need to follow him. Barton isn't the spy-" She chokes on the word, not able to force it out. "Barton isn't the one controlling them."

"What?" Graham asks. "What do you mean that wasn't O?"

"I'll explain later," the Doctor lies. "Come on."

She turns, walks out of the ballroom as fast as her feet will take her, eager to get away from this place. Anywhere but here, anywhere that doesn't remind her of him, is exactly what she needs right now. Whatever he did to Gallifrey can wait, at least until she's dealt with the current problem.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed, leave a kudos and/or a comment!


End file.
